


Ice Cream with Your Chocolate

by DontAskWhy



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Chocolate, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ice Cream, M/M, Short One Shot, Smut, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21726013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontAskWhy/pseuds/DontAskWhy
Summary: Another charity is happening, not hosted by Bruce but by a man who loves to get dirty, and Clark loves him for it
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Ice Cream with Your Chocolate

Oh, Marv. His charities are both the worst and the best in my opinion. On one hand, he raises the most money for nonprofit organizations, just behind Wayne Fundraisers. On the other… they always involve something absurd, messy, or both, making everyone he can to interact. And since he's figured out that I truly care about everyone, I'm the first one he asks to come every time, at least he tells before beforehand what's about to come. “Okay, everyone!” Marvin called out from the stage. “Who should go first?” And here it comes, “Oh! How about our very own Gotham Prince! Come on up, Brucie!” I give my best Brucie smile and head up between the applause. I walk up the smooth stairs and shake hands with the cheery man. “Thanks again for coming, Bruce.” He whispers, “Their wallets are always more loose with you around, if you know what I mean.” he winks at me with a coy smile.

I give a small genuine laugh, “Well, anything for the kids.”

“That's the spirit.” Patting my shoulder, he then turns to the other guests and uses his host voice while I went to stand in the large low bowl with a suit that Alfred made absolutely sure was easily cleaned off from- “Now, ladies and gentlemen, who here what's to see Bruce Wayne covered in delicious liquid chocolate with the largest cherry topper you've ever seen!? And remember, the winner gets a little sampler!”

. . .

Part of the gig is to walk around the glossy gala, with disposable carpets for grips, still covered in whatever the host chooses. So, here I am, looking like I went swimming in coco sugar. And he wasn't kidding about the cherry, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was trying to eat my head whole. At least, after an hour, I fit in with half the guests, mainly the younger, daring ones and the folks that care about Gotham enough to get a little slimy for charity. One poor sod was covered in melted marshmallows; a lot of people tried to get us to hug and put a giant gram cracker on both our backs. I don't doubt Marvin has some of those, too.

After long enough, I take the stairs to the roof, hearing a slight squish sound with every step. Whatever this chocolate is, it's trying to become one with my skin, bravo Marv.

The breeze feels good against very little of my exposed flesh, possibly harding the substance a little. But solitude for me is rare and fleeting, with a certain someone hovering behind me. “Not. One. Word.” I turn to glare at the flying American flag himself, covering his mouth as best as he can while his eyes threaten to cry from held back laughter.

“Hmm-hm!” He shakes his head violently. I swear, if he tells anyone in the League. “Doh-hm!” He tries to speak again, this time without a laugh trying to sneak out, “Do you need any assistance, Mr. Wayne?”

I look back over Gotham, I'm starting to hate today, “Only if you know where a literal tub of ice cream is, then no, I don't.” I was expecting a witty comeback or some sort of pun-based-joke, the silence was_ not promising. “Clark, if you-” I whip around but it's too late as a controlled vortex of air whirls around me. Standing there for a moment, I rethink my life choices up until this moment. “Clark, I know you can hear me. I know what you're planning and if you-” a beam of light shines around me and suddenly I'm in an icy room. Superman stood in front of me with nothing but his cape and boots, behind him was a glass bowl, half the size of the already large room and filled with ice cream and dozens of bananas around the edges.

The Man of Steel smiles hungrily at me, "Should we split this banana?" My God, would Dick be proud of that one, but also want to throw up.

I shake my head, "You're horrible."

"Funny," he hovers up and plants his feet for his covered toes to touch mine, "I seem to recall you saying you liked it when I got _nasty_. Now," he takes one of my hands into his, slowly slides his tongue on my chocolate covered fingers with lustful intentions, and I do have to admit it is a little sexy. "Shall we eat?" His eyebrows wiggling. I shake my head again at his childish entendre, but can't seem to get rid of the smirk on my face. I'll have to thank Marv later.


End file.
